Eyes on the road
by lunarcow97
Summary: Steve and Kelsie go on the road to find missing SHIELD agents and Steve learns about the modern world along the way. Sequel to with new eyes
1. DC

When Steve and I left New York we were sent straight to the Triskelion in D.C to prepare for our mission. Fury gave us a night to ourselves as he gets the necessary things in order for our mission. Tomorrow at seven thirty Steve and I will rendezvous at the hangar and be briefed on the details. We separate at the doors when a few chirpy agents bound over to greet Captain America. I pass unnoticed and give him a wave as I head to my onsite quarters. Most agents live in quarters in a smaller building away from the main office or somewhere off site, my room is below ground on one of the sub levels where I could easily access the building above in case of emergency. My missions often take me away from base and I rarely spend more than a couple of days here at a time. Down the sterile hallways and into an elevator I press the button for the sub level three. With a hand scan the elevator begins its descent and I lean against the wall with a sigh. _All I want is a nice shower and nap, anything else requires too much effort._ I think as the doors open and I make my way through the twists and turns until I see my door. Before I can open the metal door I hear someone calling my name from the stairway.

"Hey Kelsie! Hey I have a new one for you." I hear the British voice of my friend agent Fitz. Fitz is a talented engineer that works with a biologist named Simmons who works with him like a second half. When I have the chance to spend time at the Triskelion he is the one who repairs my prosthetic or upgrades it when he can. When he gets closer I see the shiny new leg that he carries with him. I greet him with a smile and a hug that he returns gladly. We head into my room and he makes himself a spot on my couch while I set my jacket aside and rummage through the cupboard for a glass to fill with water.

"Alright Fitz, what do you have for me." I ask him as I plop down beside him on the couch. My quarters are sparse and the couch and coffee table sit alone in the living area. Through a doorway to our right is the kitchen and to our left is the bedroom. The cot in the bedroom is covered in navy sheets and blankets and is next to the little wooden nightstand with its little desk light.

"We heard about New York, in fact almost everyone watched it live. Fury sent down the notice for a replacement leg and I started as soon as I could. It should nearly match the old one except that it's circuits are insulated far better and there's this laser..."

"No lasers!" I interrupt quickly, the one thing Fitz always wants to add in is some kind of laser. To make me more badass he says. He grins at me and shakes his head with a chuckle. He likes to poke fun at me for not wanting _lasers_ _inside my leg_, it's become an inside joke. Fitz hand me the new prosthetic carefully and I look it over with an approving smile. Like the last couple it is a shiny silver color and the seams are barely there. The toes are always my favorite part; Fitz knows I want my toes as realistic as possible. I think it makes me feel more normal to be able to wiggle my toes and not just have a two unit toe set. These little piggies are prepainted a slick red that reminds me of our conversation about Natasha being so scary partially because of her red hair. Everyone knows red is the scariest color. The calf is shaped to match my real one and the places without plated metal, where there is high flexibility, are a black super durable plastic that stretches to accommodate movement. On the shin Fitz took my suggestion of some sort of embellishment and etched into the metal a floral pattern with vines and roses.

"Damn Fitz, this is fantastic looking. Really it's the best yet." I tell him as I set it down to remove the old one. He smiles and blushes at the compliments and explains all the details as I unlock the connectors and slip off the spare.

"How did you manage to dent this?!" He exclaims as I hand over the old leg, there are a few scrapes on it and a couple places where the circuits are visible but he must be noticing the severe dent on the front that runs from the knee to the ankle. It must be from one of the falls I took, really I just tend to turn off the sensors in it when I'm fighting. Couldn't feel a thing. Fitz looks over the leg while grumbling to himself about hard work and ingenuity and I strap into the new one. The base built onto my stump connects to circuits at the top of the leg and when they meet the leg responds to my brainwave commands to perform functions. Once all the latches are secure and it s properly running I wiggle my toes and watch the little red tipped digits dance. I walk through the usual test to make sure it functions, bend the knee, stretch the knee, twist and turn the knee. All the movements are smooth and fluid, going just how they should.

"Looks good Fitz, feels like it works alright so far." I tell him as I stand up carefully. The leg easily takes my weight and I shift back and forth on the ball of my foot. A few steps forward and back confirm its sizing is fine and the calibrations are correct. "All the bits are good. Hopefully it lasts longer than the last one." I say as I do a circuit of the room. The leg before this one had worked about a month before Thor fried it, the one before that had lasted nearly a year.

"I don't see how I could of prepared for a Thunder God. It's just not fair." He says with a frown, the last model he had named Bernice and it had been his favorite of the more durable ones. "This one is named Flora because I already named one Rose. Eventually I'll run out of names." He continues as he watches Flora compared to my other leg. Fitz likes to name everything he makes but I kindly asked him to give all my legs a feminine name. A few models back he had wanted to name a heavy duty one Chuck but I had vetoed it. I take my seat next to him and turn to look at him.

"Thanks Fitz, it looks great. How have you been? Not getting into too much trouble I hope." I ask him with a grin, checking in with him has become part of our routine and after one of the agents had started making rude comments I felt responsible for him. Once Fitz broke down and gave me the name I had shown agent Havart what I thought of his bullying. Since then he hasn't been bothered by anyone but I still ask just in case.

"It's been great, Simmons and I are working on some very cool projects. I may have had a small explosion issue a week ago but it all was settled nicely. You could hardly see the damage to the office." He tells me with a mischievous grin. Explosions were par for the course with any SHIELD scientist, there was an entire division of agents specializing in explosion reconstruction.

"I'm glad you are having fun. Fury didn't even let me finish my pie." I whine with a pout. Fitz laughs at my plight and takes the old leg as he heads to the door.

"Fury will take my pie for a month if I don't get back to the lab. I'm glad you're alright, I'd hate to have to replace you." He jokes with a wink as he closes the door behind him. The room is silent and I listen to the clock on the counter as it ticks out the seconds. My glass on the table sits abandoned as I walk over to my bed and sit with a sigh. A few seconds of stripping and rearranging later I'm comfortably tucked into my bed and the pillow is fluffed beneath my head. My thoughts turn to the agent that didn't come back alright and how I'll miss Coulson's enthusiasm and dry wit. He was someone I knew from the beginning of my time at SHIELD, even while I was in physical therapy he came to check in on me and encourage me. I roll over to my side and look at the blank wall of my room. Everytime I saw him he was prepared and smooth, no situation ruffled his feathers and he was an inspiration to many of us. He was the epitome of the spy in the suit, he could blend in anywhere and knew everything. Or at least that's what we told the recruits.

Coulson was a good man and I wish I had been there to help him. I close my eyes and turn to my stomach on the unforgiving mattress, a deep breath calms my fluttering heart and the tears retreat. You never really get used to losing a teammate, it's just part of the job


	2. In the air

In the morning I wake with the sunrise, or what I suppose must be it since there are no windows. The clock on my night stand reads 6:30 jump in the shower and scrub away the sleep. A quick towel dry later and I pull on a fresh pair of tactical pants and a clean white tank top to go under my armored jacket. Even when off mission agents are expected to wear one of the uniforms provided. I don't really like the catsuits so jacket and pants is my preference. A belt and leg holster follow the pants and I strap in my gun. Over my tank I wear a shoulder holster with two extra magazines and a stun gun. With a quick zip of my jacket I grab my phone and head out the door. Fury had our essential gear packed the night before and everything was meeting us on a plane headed to France.

Locking my door and heading to the elevator I whistle a little tune and think about Steve. He must of gone into the ice sometime in 1945, that gives me somewhere to start showing him stuff. It seems like he's going to need somebody he can ask questions, why not me.

The elevator takes me a few floors before stopping to let in some agents, they nod to me and I give them a tight smile. Spies have the tendency to keep to themselves, agents that work in the field or undercover like Natasha and Clint don't trust anyone. It's hard for them to see someone without evaluating their strengths and weaknesses. I try not to scan people all the time, really I do, but I look them over to check for weapons and see none.

A few floors later I get off and look around at the hangar bay. On the Tarmac are vehicles of all kinds, planes, helicopters, cars, and even a tank. I can see Steve standing by the ramp to a large cargo plane and head over to him. People run around from job to job and I try to stay out of the way as they get planes in the air and roll tires to cars. Steve waves me over and I smile as I approach him.

"Hey Steve! You ready for this?" I ask him as we fall into step on our way up the ramp and into the plane. The seats are spacious and Fury is waiting for us to join him at a table by the far windows. Steve sits carefully and I plop into the luxurious chair with a squeak from the leather.

"Good morning, this plane is loaded with the items you will need and will take you to the airport in Paris where agent Sloan last checked in." Fury begins to tell us as he draws out a briefcase from under his seat. With a few clicks he opens it to show me little baggies full of colorful fabrics. "Each case file has a corresponding scent sample we gathered from the agents personal effects." He explains to Steve who looks confused until I tap my nose and wink. "The agents on this list may still be alive. If they are not then you will have to bring in their bodies for burial. When you find an agent you will activate your beacon and leave them at a safe house where a unit will arrive to retrieve them." Fury continues while showing us a case of little blinking discs that must be the beacons. Steve nods along and I look through the file again as Fury goes over details.

"Should an agent be in enemy hands you must radio in your location and wait for backup unless it is ordered otherwise. In public only use your cover identities, should you be compromised use the panic button to alert us and we will send reinforcements. Should you need anything radio in on a secure channel directly to my office. Good luck." Fury finishes as he stands and walks to the exit. We stand with him and Steve shakes his hand at the doorway, I nod to Fury and he returns it before descending and ordering the plane up. The doors seal and we sit back in the fancy seats as the pilot comes over the speaker and let's us know it will be approximately a seven hour flight. With a sigh I turn to Steve who is playing with the adjustment on his chair and has his brow furrowed in confusion. With a chuckle I get up and sit in the chair next to him.

"How are you doing? Even after everything it must still be weird." I say as he gets his seat settled. His smile falters a minute as he thinks about it and I see him bite his lip in thought.

"Sometimes it's the little things that get me, you know? I am doing better but it's a lot to take in. There are so many things people say and I don't understand." He answers as he runs his chin with a hand and nervously smooths his hair. "I wish I could just have a guide with all the things right there for me but there is just so much." He continues with a frown. I place a hand over his on the armrest and he looks at me, letting me see his discomfort.

"Why don't we catch you up a bit while we have some time. There's going to be a lot of travel time where we can talk about things. If you have a question you can always ask." I tell him with a smile. I take back my hand and pull out my smartphone to show him. We sit through a few hours looking at historical articles on the phone or a laptop. I show him the basics of google searching and let him scroll through the web with wide eyes and an excited smile. With Steve entertained I stretch my arms and take a walk around the cabin. I find the snack compartment and bring back bags of chips and cans of soda to share. Steve thanks me and we settle into some research. Steve looks at the wars that he missed and I answered what I could. When he got to Vietnam the air became thick and he seemed to still. There were images and accounts on the screen and he watched newsreels. I watched him carefully and when his eyes became glassy I put a hand over the keyboard and shut the laptop.

"It's time for a break." I tell him quietly as he stares off into space. His eyes are far away and remembering his war. I kneel in front of him and put both hands on his shoulders firmly.

"Steve, what happened was awful, it was the war with the highest rated occurrence of PTSD and people suffered. But it's over, we can't change what happens, we can only promise to never let it happen again." I tell him softly, holding him firmly as he came back from his memories. "There is a lot to take in, we have made so many advances and done so many things. It's going to be overwhelming but you have to remember to stay in the here and now. No one can go back." I continue in a light tone. His eyes come back to mine and he takes a deep breath with a shudder. He lets me hold onto his shoulders while he breaths and processes. At my suggestion he tells me what he is thinking, tells me all the little things he regrets and how he wishes he could of stopped it. For a minute we do nothing but think about all the things that are happening. All the things we have done.

"Thank you." He says with a little grin that pulls on my heart. I let go of him and sit back down with my head on his shoulder.

"You aren't alone Steve, I promise." I tell him firmly with a hand in his. We sit until we fall asleep and I dream of sand and sun; of screams and fires


	3. Paris

I wake up with a sudden gasp and twist away from the firm hand restraining my wrist. My breath comes in little pants and my eyes automatically take in the plane to look for enemies. Steve is still asleep and I notice an agent with a hand on the door to the cabin frozen with his foot in the air. The agent raises an eyebrow and I turn away to look out the window, trying to control my breathing.

"We will be landing shortly. The car is prepared for you and we will drop you at a private airport north of Paris." The agent tells me as he walks all the way into the cabin. I give him a quick nod and watch him retreat to the cockpit. Talking to Steve reminded me of my time in the desert, made me remember all the dead civilians and soldiers that we couldn't save. I served for three years, in Iraq, Afghanistan and covert missions in Africa. Clearing fields of mines left from past conflicts and disarming weapons hidden to kill us I saw plenty of the horrors people are capable of.

Steve just got back from being in the middle of the war, to him it hasn't been years since WWII, it's been months. Looking at him sleeping next to me I wonder how he will move on from that. SHIELD wants Captain America to serve their agenda as soon as possible, they will ignore what he has been through to use him again like a puppet. Looking at the clouds out my window I silently hope he can get out.

"How much longer until we land?" Steve asks as I turn back to him, he rubs sleep from his eyes and blinks awake to look at me.

"Soon. We will be taking the car from the cargo bay and heading out once final checks are done." I reply as I unbuckle and head to the stairs, he is a few seconds behind me and we descend in silence. The cargo bay is a large, metal, area with boxes and crates strapped down everywhere and in the center of it all is an older model station wagon with a carrier strapped to the top. From the outside it looks like a normal road trip car, the green paint hides all the weapons inside. We walk around and Steve lifts open the trunk to reveal our duffel bags and some sleeping bags, a few extra bags and the case file with passports and wallets on top. Picking up the first passport I open it and smile as I hand it to Steve.

"So nice to meet you Steve Williams, such a creative name." I say with a chuckle, I bet they organized it so he wouldn't have to have a completely new name, just in case.

"It is a pleasure as well miss Sarah Thurston. Shouldn't be too hard to remember." He replies as he hands me my new wallet and passport. The picture is the same as always and the wallet has about three hundred in cash as well as credit cards tied to our mission spending account under my alias. I tuck the items in my pocket and lift up the cover in the trunk where a spare tire would be. Inside are the weapons and ammo along with Steve's shield. He looks almost relieved to see the disk and I double check the weapons as he runs a hand over its surface. The file comes with us to the front seats as we buckle up and open it up.

"When we land we will head out onto the road and I'll try and find a trail for agent Sloan. We should start at the safehouse, there is a higher chance of picking up the scent from somewhere she spent a lot of time." I tell him as I open the glove box and pull on my shades. When I scan in different ways my eyes change color and so it's best to cover them up when I track people. When I'm looking in infrared my eyes take on a red tone, when I am tracking pheromones they turn a light turquoise that other agents say seems to glow. Steve sits in the driver seat and looks over the dashboard with a crease in his brow.

"Cars are not like I remember. Where is the clutch?" He asks as he turns a confused look to me. I shake my head as I explain how automatics work and he continues to look at the controls with what seems like annoyance.

"It will be fine Steve. If you want I can start off driving." I offer, I set the file aside and watch him debate it in his head. He thanks me but refuses the offer and minutes later we hear the landing gear come down followed by the thump of the runway. Lights blink on as the plane slows and mechanical clicks sound around us. When the movements settle the ramp begins to lower and the bright sunlight falls across the hood of the car. Steve smiles as the ramp hits the ground and sunlight streams through the windshield. With a turn of a key the engine begins to rumble.

"Ready to get started?" Steve asks me with a grin as we roll off the plane. With the old t shirt in my hand I smirk at him as I look for the trail.

"Of course, always ready for an adventure." I reply as we merge into traffic and all the other pheromone trails come into view. The colors mix together and I search through the mess of it for the one that matches the shirt. Steve seems relaxed as we drive through the light traffic, his shoulders loose and hands relaxed on the steering wheel. The sky is clear and the air is cool, the wind coming through my window rolls through my hair, the crisp feel of it on my face eases the pressure behind my eyes. The streets aren't overly full but even so there is an overwhelming amount of signals to sort through. Airports shut down following the New York incident so tourists are few and far between. The houses pass us by and Steve takes in the picturesque scenery while my eyes trail over it all. We are closer to the safehouse,mouth on the outskirts of the downtown area. I run my hand over the shirt and close my eyes for a second to clear my head of all the information.

"I have it. Park the car."I hear myself say as I catch sight of the trail of her left over pheromones. Steve pulls the car into place and shuts it all down as I step out and follow the scent. I can hear him behind me calling my alias' name but I focus on the scent as I wind through the crowd of people in the marketplace. He catches up to me and keeps a hand on my wrist as I point ahead and whisper to him. "Shhh, keep an eye out for me. I'm going in." Before dropping into the meditative state of search and find. All I can think of is the search. A twisting purple rope that connects to something further down the line. Shimmering above the street and through people who ignore my bumping into them. Steve's hand on my wrist is firm and I stop when he abruptly pulls me towards him. There's a red light and I shuffle my feet anxiously as we wait it out.

The purple string draws me forward and I know the end isn't far, maybe a mile or two. I take us through turns and across streets as the source gets closer. My head pounds with the growing intensity of the scent and after half an hour of walking the end is behind a door to an upscale apartment.

"Here, she's here." I tell Steve as I pull back from my sight and come back down to just seeing the world like everyone else. My head aches and Steve puts a hand on my shoulder as we step around the corner to case the building.

"Do you know how many people are inside?" Steve asks, his tone is different from before. His voice sounds more commanding now. I look at the apartment building bottom to top and count the heartbeats.

"Three on the bottom floor, five on the second. Our agent is on the second. Looks like the one exit and several windows." I answer quietly, letting him plan it out.

"We go in the front, knock first and drop the first guy when we have an in. We have to be quick, the ones up top will hear us when we take down the lower two. We go in fast and aim to disable, not kill." He says with a firm look and steel tone. I nod at his lead and he pulls out the gun from his shoulder holster. We double check our ammo and nod to each other as we walk back up to the door. I knock hard on the door as Steve stands to the side.

Footsteps come our way and within seconds of the door opening the man is down and the other two get up and reach for guns. A shot to the wrist and knee takes down the first, Steve hits the other man in the shoulder and hits the doorman to keep him down. With a quick look we move to the staircase and still as we listen for footsteps. Fast, heavy, steps work their way to the entrance of the stairs and I lean out from my place kneeling to hit him in the knee and send him tumbling down the stairs. The man is out after a firm hit to the jaw and the remaining three scuffle and yell as we take the stairs silently. These aren't professionals, if they were we wouldn't have such an easy time of it. The upstairs room is empty of furniture except for the chair where agent Sloan is tied up and bleeding. Three men look at us with varying faces of surprise, anger, and fear. The youngest looking one, maybe early twenties, has a knife up to Sloan's neck and it shakes with his nerves. The two on either side of him look more experienced and aim their guns without a wobble.

"Who sent you after our agent?" Steve asks them in his captain voice. His tone commands the room and the young guy's eyes widen as he edges towards hysteria.

"Stay back or we kill her! Drop your weapons!" The one on the left, the tall brunette, yells at us, nodding his head to the young guy with a knife to the agent's neck. Steve frowns at the, and his eye roll to me. I look at him and give a little shrug as if to say, why not. Steve opens his mouth to reply but our shots ring out before they can realize. The two on the side each get a bullet to the chest and fall to the floor. The man with the knife looks at his comrades and back to us with our guns pointed at him. He drops the knife and steps back with his hands raised as he begs us for mercy in French.

"Will they all be this easy?" Steve says as we walk over to Sloan, I kick a gun away and shrug while putting away the gun.

"Probably not, but at least this one was. We will call SHIELD to get the local authorities onto the kidnappers." I reply as he removes the duct tape from the woman's mouth. Sloan thanks us profusely and we make quick work of the rest of her bindings. She has a few cuts here and there but we walk out of the house and back to the car without incident. With a map open we find the nearest safehouse while Steve calls us in to base. Clean up crew will deal with the mess while we settle in for the night.

"Alright, one down, five more to go." Steve says after his call with Fury.

"Not bad for a first try." I reply as we pull up to a small house outside of town. The building is small but inside there is plenty of room for all of us and the cupboards are full of food. We bring in the essentials and Steve takes Sloan to the couch to dress her cuts and debrief.

"My head hurts, I'm going to turn in for the night." I tell them as I drag my feet towards the third bedroom. I wave as they say their goodnights and mumble some sort of reply. My mind is slow and feels heavy in my head. The Advil I took an hour ago hasn't helped much and I feel like my head is full of bricks. The house is a blur to me, I didn't take in the sights we passed on the way or see anything in my room as I dropped my bag and sat heavily on the bed. I strip my pants and socks, shoes and bra. Crawling under the covers I stare at the ceiling and let my eyes slide shut. Even with them shut I feel the weight in my head and the pressure in my temples. Using my powers as much as I did shouldn't take so much out of me. I've gone days tracking targets and felt this tired, today should have barely winded me.

Sleep comes after tossing and turning, rolling to find the right position. When it comes I find myself in a realm of gold and people wearing medieval clothing. Looking about myself I stop as I see a dark skinned man in golden armour with eyes to match. Standing tall with a sword beneath his resting hands his eyes watch me and a smile tugs at his lips.

"Welcome to Asgard."


	4. Dreams

"How can I be in Asgard if the bridge is broken." I ask the large man in gold. He walks with me through the streets and steers us to one of the buildings overlooking the city where we stand on a large balcony covered in vines.

"You must forgive me the confusion, I have brought your mind here by draining your sight. My apologies for any discomfort this has brought you but it was necessary." The man answers as I take in the view. The city stretches out below us and is surrounded by clear waters that reflect the bright sunshine. In the distance a rainbow path runs over the water and ends abruptly before the horizon. _That must be the Bifrost._

"Why did you bring me, is it about Thor? Is something wrong?" I turn to ask him, his golden eyes smiling at me as I worry. There must be a very important reason he dragged my conscious through the Galaxy.

"All is well my lady, worry not. I summoned you here to offer what information I have on the mark you wear." He replies while gently taking hold of my wrist. The intricate design shimmers under the sunlight but no sparks spear at his touch. I let him hold my wrist as he examines the mark, turning my arm this way and that to get a good look. "I observed you as the mark appeared, since then I have searched for the meaning behind it." He continues, letting go of my arm and watching me intently.

"What did you find?" I ask in a whisper. His eyes on me don't seem malicious but the studying look makes me itch. He turns toward the open air and his eyes find the end of the rainbow bridge. His rumbling voice fills the small building when he tells me.

"The Norns have marked you. They are the oracles of our realm and have seen you play a role of importance in their visions. They would give no details to the meaning of the mark, only that you will have need of it." He says, his eyes falling back to my face and searching for something there. _What did they see?_ I wonder with a frown. Whoever the Norns are, Heimdall trusts their visions.

"Thank you Heimdall, I did not expect answers anytime soon but I am glad to have more information. It is also very cool to see Asgard." I thank him with a smile, the people who passed us on the streets and the buildings we passed make the weight on my sight worthwhile. I'm confused of course but this place is so beautiful I can almost forget how tired I was. Heimdall leads me away from the balcony and we walk through the crowded streets filled with people who pay us no mind. The air is cool and I watch the children run from each other and the vendors hassle the crowd for a deal. We pass through unnoticed and make our way to the largest of buildings at the center of the city. Statues line the entrance, stretching above us to hold the ceiling. The people here are dressed in silks and colors far more refined than the others we saw, an air of elegance surrounds them as they strut along.

"You must return shortly." He says with a hand on my shoulder, we turn away from the palace and he brings me to another overlook to point to the broken bridge. "I will call to you again to look upon the Bifrost. Mayhaps your vision will assist in mending the breaks." He continues with a grin. The look he casts towards the bridge is full of sadness and I remember that he is the guardian of it, seeing it destroyed must of been awful. "Before you are returned you must know that your father has been freed and he searches for you." His voice darkens as he finishes and my head whips from the view to look at him. I find my hands gripping onto his cloak as I shake my head and start to ask if he is sure.

But my grip slips and my hands fade in front of me while the world turns dark. Stepping away from him my body further fades and I look to him in the seconds before everything turns dark to see him smiling at me and bowing his head in farewell. My eyes close and I feel my breath stutter as everything feels like it compresses into me. My stomach twists and I lurch forward to find myself sitting up in bed. Back in France. My body is sweaty and my breathing is shallow, the room is dark and I look around to make sure I am alone.

Galaxies away and in seconds I'm right back to the safehouse. I groan as I lay back down to look at the ceiling. If my father is free I have another problem. SHIELD captured him nearly seven years ago, after he killed my mom. I wipe my forehead and lurch from the bed towards the bathroom. The lights come on and I lean on the sink as my reflection looks back at me.

"Well that was fun." I whisper to myself, taking a towel down and stripping for a shower. The water is hot and the heat helps that knots in my shoulders while I rest my head on the wall. I can hear someone come into the bedroom and knock on the bathroom door. Steve calls to me from his side and warns me breakfast is in ten and we leave in an hour. With a quick reply I turn into the spray and scrub down with the light soap left for us. Nice and quick my shower is over and I wrap up in the towel as I walk back to the bed and haul up my bag. A shirt and jeans with boots prepare me for the day and I take a second to stare blankly at the wall. One day in and already this mission is shaping up to turn out badly.


	5. The Wandering Pony

With fresh clothes and recharged phones Steve, agent Sloan and I sit around the kitchen table rubbing the sleep from our eyes and running spoons around bowls of cereal. The file lays open on the table, names and locations blurring under my scrutiny. Agent Sloan will stay here and wait for her pick up while Steve and I continue on to the next missing agent. A few pages in I find the map with all the little red dots where the agents last checked in. There's a dot where we are in Paris, a dot in Vienna, Moldova, Jordan, Somalia, and Colombia. Vienna is the closest, agent Lennox was on a case tracking the local arms dealers. His last transmission was a check in with his commanding officer, he mentions in his reports a few members that were higher up in the food chain, a good place to start looking for him.

"Where to now?" Steve asks as he puts his bowl in the sink and leans against the counter, looking at the file on the table. I pass him the map and show him the next location, flipping the pages to Lennox's reports. He reads through it and I clean up my breakfast and get my bags together. The safe house is a blank canvas that stares at me like I don't belong. Standing by the door I look around the rooms to check to make sure we haven't left anything. Steve reads the file while I wait, leaning with a hip against the counter and his shoulders hunched forward. His shirt is half a size too small, the ladies on packing duty probably did that on purpose. His hair is mussed from sleep and his face is framed nicely by a sprinkle of stubble.

"You should grow out a beard. No one would recognize you then, perfect disguise." I suggest with a grin, his head shoots up and his face is full of confusion. He scratches his chin a little and makes a considering face.

"I've never had a beard before." He replies, closing the file and picking up his bags from next to his chair. We head to the car and pile in, our bags shoved in back and food stuffed into a little cooler. Steve offers to drive but I jump into the seat before he can protest. Road trips are better if you have something to focus on,meriting is my favorite part. We won't get to Vienna for maybe seven hours, a couple shifts each and a stop for food. Steve makes himself comfortable in his chair and turns on his tablet that SHIELD filled with what they think he needs to know to acclimate.

"History class was never my favorite, what all do they have you reading?" I ask as we cruise down the freeway in the early morning traffic. Steve gives a shrug and leans back in the seat, blowing out an annoyed breath.

"I don't mind studying, it's just that there seems to be a lot of violence and not a lot of good. Dropping into the future you hope things are better but that's not how it works. Not really." He says with his eyes on the road, his forehead pressed to the glass. He has a point. I can't imagine how overwhelmed he must feel.

"We take one step forward and two steps back. We have a lot of great things right now but you're right, not everything is rosy." I reply, trying to sound soothing. "We can't go back Steve. We have to live with what we have and do what we can to change the world. How you do that is up to you." I finish, catching his eyes and squeezing his hand before putting it back on the wheel. He gives a little smile but turns away to the window. We drive for hours like that. In the silence of the car I watch the road go by while Steve takes in all the things he missed. We last three hours before I can't drive anymore, pulling into a rest stop to gas up and take a break.

Food is eaten and we pile back in with Steve driving and me relaxed in the passenger seat with a sweatshirt wrapped around me. The sky is a swirl of light fluffy clouds and the oncoming front of dark storm clouds. Steve gives a little tisk at the first rain drops and I lean forward to watch the clouds roll over us. Greyson swarm and mix, dark almost black clouds wrestle with the lighter ones. In the distance I can see the thunder. Something in me warms, I can feel a rush of excitement tingling in my hands and toes. There's something in my chest that heats up and expands with the sound of thunder closing in on us. Steve watches the road, not noticing my hyper awareness. The storm tugs at me and a shiver rolls up my spine as the windows shake from the storm. The mark on my arm feels like it's pulling me outside, into the rain. I curl tighter into my sweatshirt and watch the clouds. I can feel the thunder in my blood, hear it in my mind, drowning out Steve complaining about the wet road. I shut my eyes and tuck my head down to my knees, concentrating on relaxing the growing tension in my muscles. Heat pools in my stomach and the energy of the storm stirs the excitement into a frenzy. I want to run through the rain like a mad woman in nothing but my skin. I take deep breaths, slow and deep to fill my chest. The sky is silent for a minute before the crack of thunder returns and a bolt of lightning strikes the road before us. Steve swerves to avoid sparks. I grip the dashboard. The car slams to a stop before we hit a barrier and my seatbelt tightens painfully across my neck. Steve and I breathe heavily and look at each other with matching wide eyed faces of surprise. We turn off the highway and park the car, waiting out the storm.

"Some crazy storm. No way are we driving through that." Steve says as he looks at the clouds and shakes his head. He looks at me and shrugs, what can you do. "Do you want to find some food while we wait? I think I saw a place not far back down the road." He offers, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the diner a few blocks away. I nod reluctantly and wrap my sweatshirt around myself as we climb out of the car and hurry towards the building with a large sign proclaiming 'the best milkshakes in the world' in curly scripted letters. The rain pelts us as we jog over and the feel of it on my face cools my skin but reminds my mind of the distracting connection with the storm.

The diner is small but warmly decorated and the young waitress quickly offers us a booth as we close the door to the rain. There are a handful of other customers that look like regulars, sitting at the counter and tables making companionable conversation. We get lead over to a window booth and are given menus with faded font and little Eiffel Towers on it. I never learned any French, I'm glad the menu items are all in English. Steve looks over the menu with a furrowed brow and I wait for him to decide. The waitress comes our way when she sees us put our menus away, sashaying between tables and giving us a warm smile.

"Welcome to The Wandering Pony, what can I get for you?" The young woman asks us kindly. Steve looks vaguely confused so I jump in and order a sandwich and milkshake. Turning to Steve she waits as he stutters out his order, whisking away the menus she heads to the kitchen.

"I didn't know you speak French." Steve says when I look back to him. I didn't speak French, what would give him the impression I do?

"I don't know French Steve, we ordered in English." I reply with a raised eyebrow and a confused tone. I lean away from him as he gives me an annoyed look and shakes his head at me.

"You just ordered in French, we both did." He insists, I shake my head and insist he is delusional. Taking one of the dessert menus down he shoves it into my hands. " what does this say?" He asks with exasperation. I read out the crepe flavors to him and hand it back to him with a frown.

"What's your point Steve, the menu is in English." I argue as he looks over the sheet of paper. With a determined frown he gets up and walks to the nearest customers. Asking them what language the menu was in he looked back at me when they replied, French.

"I don't know French." I repeat when he sits back down and let's me take the menu.

"Apparently you do." He replies with a shrug. I put away the menu and rest my head on my hand as I look at the window to think.

"How come Thor speaks English? Shouldn't that of been an issue, I mean he is an alien." I ramble as the dark clouds brighten with lightning. Steve clasps his hands together on the table and tilts his head, bringing his eyebrows down in thought.

"I think he said something about All Speak, some skill his kind have for intergalactic trade stuff. Why?" He says with a glance at the sky as a peal of thunder vibrates the windows. I turn away from the storm and pull up my sleeve to show him the hammer on my arm. Steve is my partner for the foreseeable future, whatever is going on with me is sure to affect our mission. He has a right to know what is going on.

"When Thor touched me there was this weird lightning thing and then this just appeared. Last night I dreamt that I was in Asgard and this guy, Heimdall, said the Norns had marked me. I don't know what it means but he also said that my father had escaped, that he was looking for me. If that's true we could be in trouble." I explain in a hushed tone as my eyes go over the room and search for anything out of place.

"And you think this dream was real? Why would your dad trying to find you be a bad thing." He asks, his shoulders tighten and I can tell he isn't going to just assume it was real. He looks at once skeptical and reassuring, trying not to make me feel like I'm crazy.

"He is not a good man Steve. He is enhanced, like me, only he uses his gifts to hurt people. He killed my mom, he tried to kill me. If he escaped SHIELD custody and is looking for me he will eventually cause us problems." I tell him, he gives me a sad look but nods and relaxes his shoulders as I look him in the eye. He takes a minute to search my face for a trick or hint of madness.

"Enhanced how." He responds, letting out a sigh and putting on his game face. The waitress comes over with our food and we thank her with smiles. Ignoring the delicious smelling food I try to give him the basic run down.

"I don't know why we have powers, some genetic thing. He can make you feel whatever he wants, he can make you feel pain or nothing at all. He overloaded my moms system and her heart gave out. He kept out of SHIELD's reach by making all the agents feel afraid or blessed out, they couldn't get close to him. Eventually they figured out that he couldn't manipulate them if he couldn't see them so they caught him and locked him up. I tried to stop him but I couldn't bring myself to kill him. I couldn't make myself stop his heart, couldn't keep my mom safe." I tell him, remembering the way he would make us cry in pain when he felt we deserved it and keeping us too afraid to do anything about it. Steve looks at me with pity and something of understanding. He almost reaches for my hand to reassure me but grabs a fork instead. I can almost feel that same tickle in my stomach that told me he was manipulating me, the cold in my chest at the helplessness I felt when my mom collapsed and her heart stopped.

"I'm sorry." Steve says, catching my eye and showing his sincerity in his open expression. Steve is an honest guy. I give him a grin and we go back to our meal in silence. He doesn't bring the topic of my father or sudden understanding of French back up. The storm passes within the hour and we get back onto the road with full bellies and minds on other things. I can see Steve thinking about things and turning ideas over in his head while I drive us further towards Vienna


End file.
